


Monday Mourning

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-05
Updated: 2007-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mourning after <i>Sunday</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monday Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea where this damn thing came from, only that it horned its way into my brain and wouldn't stop screaming and throwing things until I wrote it. The title is from one of Neil Gaiman's _Sandman_ books. Since I couldn't find any info at all on Hewston's first name, I went with the Grand Old Tradition(tm) of giving her the first name of the actress playing her. Thanks to Susan for her usual lovely beta job, but all mistakes are my own.

_As I was going up the stair_  
_I met a man who wasn't there._  
_He wasn't there again today._  
_I wish, I wish he'd stay away._

\----- Hughes Mearns, _The Psychoed_

* * *

_This is how it might have happened:_

When Rodney couldn't track down Katie Brown, he finally gave in and went with Carson to the mainland. To fish. Which was utterly ridiculous, but Carson was someone he'd known for what felt like forever, so it really was the right thing to do. And they'd only 'fished' for a little while before it became evident that Rodney sucked at it.

While Rodney tried to untangle his fishing line, Carson kept casting but not hooking and teasing Rodney about his lack of skill. The teasing grew into a splash war that ended with both of them soaked and laughing their fool heads off. The laughing continued as they stripped and found branches to hang their clothes on. It eventually turned to kissing, lips and tongues remembering taste and texture, hands and fingers tracing new scars over long-familiar skin.

Eventually it led to a blow-job (for Carson) and a hand-job (for Rodney) and they collapsed on the fragrant grass between the river and the 'jumper. Rodney didn't even complain about possible allergens, he was that relaxed. 

Unfortunately, they started to talk, and Rodney's injudicious words compounded with Carson's passive-aggressive statements led to them shouting at each other, as always. As abruptly as the shouting started, however, it stopped and devolved into laughing again as they suddenly remembered _why_ they had decided being friends was far better than being lovers.

It felt so good. Rodney wondered why he'd ever tried to get out of going on the 'fishing' trip with Carson. Carson was the closest thing to a best friend he'd ever had.

They talked for a long time, Carson giving Rodney the whole story behind his breakup with Laura and Rodney admitting he still carried a torch for two lieutenant colonels, one blonde, the other with dark, crazy hair. Carson told Rodney about his nerves getting in the way of asking Teyla out. Rodney said he didn't think he had a chance with Sam -- too much back-story there -- and he still wasn't sure if Sheppard was flirting with him. They ate the lunch Carson had packed, not worrying about crumbs, and promised each other they'd try to either get over or fulfill their attractions, knowing they probably wouldn't.

The sun began to go down and the air began to chill, slightly. Their clothes were dry, if a little stiff, and they dressed in companionable silence. Rodney flew them back to Atlantis at a leisurely pace  while they continued to chat about things, as old friends do.

When they came into sight of the city, it didn't take them long to realize a good portion of the central spire had fallen, broken off, splintered, crashing to the city below. It had taken the stargate and the entire command staff with it, save Rodney and Carson.

* * *

_This is how it might have happened:_

After ripping Hewston and Watson new ones, after telling them to take the next day off (and being reminded that everyone had the next day off), Rodney told them to leave the infirmary and let him get back to sleep. Before they'd cleared the doors, however, something impinged on the back of his brain -- a ghost of a thought of an idea. 

"Hold it." He turned back to Carson, who was still smirking about the fishing trip Rodney had forgotten about. "Run it again."

"Why?" Carson looked almost as tired as Rodney felt. "I just did a--"

"Because we _are_ in a place where flipping a switch could cause a catastrophe, Carson! Run it again and compare the two scans." He glowered at the two alleged scientists still standing before him. Watson looked suitably cowed, but Hewston still had some fight in her. Maybe he could get Carson to use her as a pincushion. 

Sighing heavily, the three people in the room did as he asked. Fifteen minutes later, Carson said, "Wait a minute." He turned to Watson's scan and frowned. 

"What?" Rodney demanded. 

"There's something there, a small... it's growing. It looks like a tumor." Hewston opened her mouth but Carson patted her arm. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. Rest, my dear." He turned away from his patients and looked at Rodney. "We need to know what type of radiation--"

"On it!" Rodney turned to leave, intending on waking up Zelenka and anyone else he might need. "I'm going to get dressed and I'll have a prelim as fast as I can." Twisting back at the door to the infirmary, he stabbed his finger at his two minions. "Stay there and do not move a muscle."

Radek wasn't pleased at being woken up, but when Rodney explained what happened, he was as fast as Rodney was to dress and get to the scene of the crime. The lab Hewston and Watson were supposed to be cataloging was one of thousands of little time-bombs scattered around his city, and in retrospect, assigning two baby idiots to the job was fairly stupid. But he couldn't be everywhere, he couldn't do everything, a line had to be drawn, and he'd thought he'd been safe in drawing it.

As a precaution, he allowed only himself and Radek into the lab, cordoning and locking off the entire floor around it. The device was easy to find, but the notes from the local database were corrupted. It took longer to decipher the notes than he'd wanted, but eventually, they figured it out. And it was patently ridiculous -- exploding tumors? The MST3K guys would be on the floor over the ludicrousness of it. But there it was, and Carson confirmed he could see the small tumors, growing just above and behind Hewson's and Watson's diaphragms.

It was just another stupid thing to ascribe to the Ancient's 'intelligence.'

With the help of Rodney and Radek, Carson isolated the growths and removed them, gently depositing them into a container which was detonated out on the east pier. It actually left a _gouge_ in the not-concrete of the pier, and they weren't even 'full grown,' however big they were supposed to get.

They thought they'd dodged the bullet, they thought they'd pulled another one off. But no one thought to scan either Rodney or Radek, since they'd believed the device was deactivated. 

It wasn't off, not completely. Later that evening, Radek blew up a few seconds before Rodney did, taking a large chunk out of the 'gate room and the mess hall, respectively.

* * *

_This is how it might have happened:_

Teyla met her friend Laura Hewston in the exercise room, by arrangement. Laura had been pleased at the idea of learning how to fight with bantos rods and it was an excellent time to teach -- she wasn't due to meet Elizabeth for lunch for another two or three hours. Also, it gave Teyla a perfect excuse to avoid learning how to play 'golf.' And she felt not a bit guilty over Ronon not having such an out planned.

The instruction came with much gossip, as well. Teyla had felt an attraction growing between herself  and one of her co-workers, which she admitted to Laura. In turn, Laura claimed to know more about Earth human males and wanted to advise her accordingly. There were times when Laura's ideas and comments were outrageous, but Teyla still valued her as a friend. She might be a bit on the brash side, she might have been a bit on the outrageous side, but her humor was deep and Teyla often found herself laughing despite -- or maybe because of -- her embarrassment. 

Finished, both of them sweaty but pleased with the instruction, they decided to stop. "I have lunch with Elizabeth planned," Teyla said and Laura grinned in reply. 

"Good! She works too hard." As they left the room and made for the transporter, an explosion rocked the city. They spared a moment to look at each other in horror before they were dashing for the steps -- Laura went up as Teyla went down. As she ran, Teyla donned her radio and listened in to the babbling questions and commands. 

The epicenter of the blast seemed to be low, in the area between the command tower and the huge east pier, an area closer to the gym than the tower. With a sudden, gut-wrenching premonition, Teyla doubled her pace, changed her heading, aimed for the place where John played his game.

Close to the area, she found several people, including Carson Beckett, scattered like sticks blown from the wind. Carson was on the floor, curled on his side, obviously injured. "Carson!" She knelt by his side, feeling for a pulse as she gently searched for broken bones, lifting his head a little. "This is Teyla," she shouted in her radio. "I am at the blast site, the golf area! Dr. Beckett is injured and the damage appears to be extensive!"

She heard many acknowledgements but ignored them. "Carson," she whispered. He had a pulse, but it looked like he had been burned, and the place where John played his game was gone, almost vaporized -- the hallway now led directly to the ocean and no one would be able to use it for a long time, if ever. Carson groaned and she turned her attention back to him. "Carson? No, do not move, you have been injured." From her radio, she heard frantic commands and a variety of cursing.

"Teyla?" He coughed and moaned.

"I am here, Carson," she replied gently, propping him up carefully. "There are emergency crews coming." She swallowed, trying to keep the words down but unable to do so. "John? Ronon? Carson, were they..."

A thundering of footsteps and Rodney skidded down the hall, heralding the rescue crews. "Carson?! What the hell happened?"

Teyla exchanged a desperate, horrified look with Rodney as he took in the scene of devastation. "I do not know, but John and Ronon--" 

"Gone," Carson interrupted her, his voice weak and raspy. "They were -- John and Ronon, and young Watson..." He coughed again and one of the emergency technicians who were just arriving placed an oxygen cap over his mouth and nose. 

"Gone?" Teyla had never heard Rodney's voice sound so lost, so bereft. He turned to look at the spot, a docking port which had been converted into a place for golfers to play and which was now missing altogether. "Sheppard?"

Teyla stood and walked to the gaping hole, ignoring everything else. As she was trying to come to terms with the death of two of her very best friends, to understand it, another explosion rocked the city.

* * *

_This is how it happened:_

Ronon had come to John privately and told him how torn up Rodney was over Carson's death. And he was -- Elizabeth had asked him to speak at the memorial service before sending Carson back to Earth, and he couldn't. He had tried; he had started to speak about friendship, about family, about people who care so much for others they forget about themselves. He had started and stopped, several times, never getting more than a word or two out. John had been expecting him to say, "This was my fault," but at least he hadn't do that... even though John had suspected he was thinking along those lines. 

Finally, he'd just looked at Elizabeth and said, "I can't do this." No one had said a word. Elizabeth had just nodded and had taken his place by the casket.

For Rodney's sake, John had held it together for the eulogies, the honor guard, for the long, slow march out of SGC headquarters, to the transport and chartered plane, a grim journey of sorrow. O'Neill, Woolsey, and Landry were aboard the flight to Scotland, as well. He liked to think it was in honor of Carson's sacrifice, but it was probably more self-serving than that, more of a 'get a private transport for our generals and keep people from finding out about the death' than anything. Though that could be his cynicism coming out. 

John was able to remain stoic and supportive as he accompanied Rodney to the Beckett house to tell Carson's mother of her son's death. It was there he discovered that Rodney and Carson had been friends for a long enough time that Rodney knew Carson's family pretty well. He helped Rodney support Moira Beckett, Carson's mother, and spoke soothingly to Carson's family, his brothers and sisters. He didn't say that losing Carson was like losing one of his own brothers, because they wouldn't  have understood. He wasn't sure Rodney did, either.

That night, John was able to get Rodney calm enough to take a sleeping pill. John remained mostly awake in their small hotel room, studying the shadows in the ceiling and listening to Rodney toss and turn on the other bed. He wanted a chance to grieve for himself, to find a solitude somewhere, somewhere he could be alone with the memories of his friend, a member of his _family_. It was hard to be supportive to keep McKay together, but he managed it. He could do the right thing as long as he promised himself a wallow at some other time, in private.

He discovered that, when he couldn't hear the ocean, he couldn't sleep well. Or perhaps at all.

The funeral was crowded and lovely, not that John actually heard much of it. Carson's mother sobbed her way to her seat, flanked by two of her children. Both generals spoke about Carson in bland, non-specific terms -- of his loyalty, of his honesty, of his skill. They alluded to the many lives Carson had saved, to the wonderful work he was doing in a place they couldn't explain, a job they couldn't describe.

Rodney was the last. John hoped he actually would find words, would be able to speak. Rodney without words was a frightening thing indeed.

John had given up his seat to an older woman and so stood at the back of the church in his dress blues, the clothing he hated to wear because he'd always equated it with funerals. When Rodney made it to the altar, John tensed, poised to head down the side aisle to stand with Rodney, if necessary. Then Rodney began to speak.

"He was the closest thing to a best friend I ever had."

John wasn't even conscious of making a choice; the next thing he knew was opening the door to a dark and smoky pub, only a quarter full at one in the afternoon on a Thursday. He yanked his tie loose, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and took a seat, ordering whiskey, and plenty of it. 

As he downed the first shot, he wondered if this was it hitting him, slamming him to the pavement with grief -- John had told Teyla he wasn't looking forward to when it hit him, and yeah, he'd definitely made a good call on that. He'd expected it to be bad because it had always been bad in the past. But this one, this had all the subtlety of a tsunami. Good thing McKay had finally found words, because now he wouldn't need John to remain strong and supportive. Now John could fall apart and admit to missing his friend, his brother, Carson.

He wasn't sure how long he sat and drank, though it was at least a half a bottle of Macallan long, before Rodney found him. 

"What the _fuck_?" Yeah, that was Rodney's voice. He was evidently able to reliably find words again, which was probably good, because John felt like he was going to lose them. "What the hell are you doing, Colonel?" Rodney sat on the stool next to him and shook his head as the bartender raised an eyebrow. John had never been to Scotland; were they even called bartenders here?

"What does it look like I'm doing, McKay?" John ground out, downing another shot. His throat was becoming quite nicely numb.

Rodney grabbed the bottle and glass and handed them to the bartender. "I'll pay his tab, here." 

John tried to grab the bottle back but Rodney blocked him. He paid with a credit card, signed the slip and then yanked on John's arm, nearly pulling him to the floor. "Stupid goddamned flyboy," he muttered as he pulled John out to the street. It was dark, to John's surprise.

They made it back to the hotel without incident, which might have been a miracle. John stumbled into their room after Rodney unlocked it and heard Rodney speaking to someone in the hallway. He tuned it out, aiming for the minibar fridge that just had to have more alcohol in it. It probably wasn't a good thing, but he wasn't quite blasted enough that he couldn't hear Carson's voice in his ear.

"Get away from that," Rodney snapped as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him. "What the hell is wrong with you, you asshole? You missed the funeral rites, the interment, the... the... Why did you even _come_?"

Thwarted from his mission, John half fell on his bed. He put his head in his hands. "He was _my_ friend too," he said, closing his eyes because the room was slowly turning around him, like it was the Ferris wheel and he was the pivot. "I miss him as much as you do!"

"Couldn't tell that from your behavior today! Jesus, Colonel, if you just wanted to get drunk--"

"And because Ronon told me how you were taking--"

"We could have done that together because--"

"I wasn't about to leave you in the lurch--"

"He was the best... the next thing to a best..."

"And I thought _I_ was your best friend, goddamnit!" John ended in a roar, not even thinking about what he was saying. 

Rodney's face went completely white and he dropped to his own bed. "What do you think this is, some kind of twisted fight for my _affection_? Carson... Carson and I have been friends for _years_ , friends and more, such good friends that even when we couldn't be lovers anymore, we were still friends! I don't know what--"

When Rodney's words finally sank into John's addled mind, his mouth opened and words came out. "Lovers?" He'd thought... "I thought..."

Rodney's face was still pale, but now stubborn graced it as well, not for the first time. "Yes." John knew that set of chin, that chilly look in Rodney's eyes. "You have a _problem_ with that, Colonel?"

He knew Rodney was trying to bait him as a form of self-defense, but that was only intellectually, in what passed for a rational part of his ever-more-inebriated brain. "But... Carter? Cadman?"

"The term is 'bisexual,' Colonel. And--"

John kept digging his hole deeper and deeper. "But... we've been playing the sim game together! You haven't told anyone else about it, I know! We watch movies and make fun of them, we drink beer and make fun of everyone else, and you always act--"

"That's it, I'm going to find a different room." Rodney stood and began tearing through their room, gathering up his stuff. "I don't know why I ever--"

"No!" John managed to stagger to his feet and stumble to Rodney, nearly falling on him. "No. Please."

Catching John in his arms, Rodney gave him a look that was all puzzled and angry and frustrated. "What do you want, Sheppard?" he asked in a voice that was almost pleading. "Why did you even come here?"

John was apparently drunk enough that his normal speech censor was turned off. "Because I hurt too, I miss Carson too, he was like family, you all are like... Because I knew you were falling apart," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I didn't want you to have to deal with it alone. Because..." He stopped and swallowed hard, not wanting to continue, not able to look directly at Rodney. "Because _you_ are the closest thing to _my_ best friend."

Rodney was so still he might have been carved from stone. When John finally managed to look up, he realized how drunk he really was. "Going to hurl," he managed, lurching for the bathroom.

He made it to the floor in front of the toilet before going off. It took him some time to realize there was warmth behind him and a gentle hand on his head as he emptied his stomach. It didn't take long; he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and he had no idea what time it was. 

When he knew he was done, he leaned back into the warm, solid bulk of Rodney's body, so damned grateful for it. Rodney's hands were stroking his forehead and the back of his neck, even as Rodney's exasperated and definitely fond voice called him an idiot, an asshole, and a repressed son-of-a-bitch. 

"Yeah," he finally rasped out, agreeing with it all. 

"You jerk." Rodney reached up and pulled one of the hand towels off the rack, flushing the toilet at the same time. "All you had to do was say so."

John turned to look at him, knowing full well what his expression was. 

"Well, okay, I guess not." Rodney leaned back against the tub and pulled John into his arms. After a few long minutes of silence, he finally murmured, "I just miss him, so damn much."

John let himself be comforted. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah."

There was another long pause before Rodney continued, in a voice just as faint, "Thanks for coming with me." His voice was thick. "I'm glad you're here."

"That's what friends do," John replied. His stomach had settled down, but he didn't want to move; even being cuddled by Rodney on the cold floor of a bathroom was better than any other place he thought he could be. He took a deep breath, grabbed his courage with both hands and turned, just enough that he could see and kiss Rodney's lips.

For a first kiss, it was pretty nasty, but that wasn't what was important. What was important was Rodney kissing him back.

* * *

_This is how it ended:_

"How'd it go back on Earth?"

"It was... um... awful," Rodney replied. "Your family was amazing, though."

_As I was going up the stair,_

"Aye. They are. Did you get a good turnout?"

"Yeah... packed the church." Rodney smiled in memory.

"Oh, that's good to hear."

_I met a man who wasn't there._

"It's not going to be the same around here, without you," Rodney said, an obvious point.

"You're telling me."

After a moment, Rodney added, "You know, the universe is a big place." He found himself near tears again, unaccountably. "Who knows, maybe we'll... bump into each other, again."

"Aye. Who knows."

_He wasn't there, again today._

Rodney studied the blue of the ocean surrounding Atlantis, the massive east pier stretching behind him. "You were the closest thing to a best friend I ever had," he finally said, speaking around the lump in his throat. "I'm really... really sorry... I should have just--"

"Hey. This isn't your fault."

Rodney managed to snort in something that felt like amusement. "You're just telling me what I want to hear."

"Well, that's what best friends do, sometimes. And in this case, it happens to be true." Rodney studied the clouds, the ocean, anything other than who he knew wasn't really standing beside him, hearing the beloved voice only in his head. "Take care of yourself, Rodney."

_I wish, I wish..._

Rodney raised his hand. "Goodbye, Carson," he whispered. Instantly, he added, "Wait. Carson... I need to... I wanted to tell you... Sheppard, John and I... we..."

"I know, Rodney." The smile in Rodney's memory was as gentle as it ever was. "It's a fine thing. You'll be good for each other, I know it." Rodney turned back to the ocean as he heard the whispered words, "Be well, be happy, my friend."

_I wish he would come back to stay._

There was a cautious footstep behind him and a tentative, familar voice. "Rodney?"

end


End file.
